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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24136306">nightswimming, lightsdimming</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Vinland Saga (Manga)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Coercion, Drugged Sex, Extremely Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Modern AU, Multi, Penthouse Sex, Sibling Incest, Threesome - F/M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:33:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,409</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24136306</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Actually, can I have one more of these little blonde bitches?"</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thorgil/Ketil's Daughter (Vinland Saga), Thorgil/Olmar (Vinland Saga), Thorgil/Olmar/Ketil's Daughter (Vinland Saga)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>nightswimming, lightsdimming</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Roskva is basically an OC, but the family tree in the volume 5 omake lists a daughter in between Thorgil and Olmar. I first wrote about her in <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23074006">this gen fic.</a> Essentially, she is to feminine societal standards what Thorgil is to the masculine—they embrace them and use them as a tool for cruelty. (Read: she's another way for me to bully Olmar.)</p><p>Aside from the obvious warnings..... Thorgil gleefully beats children in canon, and this fic is "what if there were two of those". So, they both do and say some mean stuff.</p><p>@vincestsaga on twitter for more brocontent 👍</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You big bully." Roskva punches him gently on the arm. "You weren't supposed to knock him out."</p><p>"I didn't think he'd be such a lightweight." Thorgil deposits his brother on the bed, taking special care not to drop him too hard. Not on the kid's birthday.</p><p>"What did you give him?"</p><p>"Nothing you need to find out about."</p><p>"Meanie."</p><p>She's been a real terror lately, as far as the male population's concerned. No point making her job any easier. Not that her recreation ever interferes with Thorgil's. Their taste never overlaps. She doesn't go for girls, and while he's got nothing against the strapping, confident type she's always dragging home, one night with his sister is enough to kill any man's appeal. It's a hoot watching them jump to attention after a couple months of Roskva grinding them down—she's got it down to a science. That's all they're good for by then.</p><p>They're never more than quickie material to start with, though. When Thorgil wants pain, he goes to one of the experts, an older guy who knows exactly what he's doing. When he wants to make an evening of it, that's when he goes on the hunt for a very particular type.</p><p>This is the first time they've ever hunted together. And he's never thought of Olmar as a prize before, but that's exactly what he is, tonight. The three of them are alone in the penthouse, and they're just waiting on one thing.</p><p>He lifts Olmar up with one arm. "Earth to Olmar. You in there, champ?"</p><p>His eyes open and flutter. "Bro?" His arm feels out unsteadily and comes to rest over Thorgil's shoulders. "Yeah, I-I'm fine, I just feel... kinda..."</p><p>"I told you those things had a kick." Thorgil scoops him up into his lap. No resistance. Just a little sack of heat that rests his head on big brother's chest and doesn't try to keep talking. It's the cutest he's been in years.</p><p>"Aw, look who loves you," Roskva coos. "Such a sweet little boy."</p><p>"Don't encourage him," says Thorgil. "He already acts enough like one."</p><p>"I think it's sweet." Roskva sits down next to them and leans her head on Thorgil's shoulder. "How could a silly girl like me ever come between your manly bond?"</p><p>"Don't make me puke." Thorgil shrugs her head off and gives Olmar a couple friendly taps on the cheek. "Olmar. Eyes open. We need your input."</p><p>"Mmhm?" Again, a little movement from his eyelashes.</p><p>"Me and her were both busy last year on your birthday, right? So this year, we got to thinking."</p><p>"About how we could make it up-to-you," Roskva continues, sing-song. "And we didn't know what you're into these days—or if we did it was boring. So this is what we came up with. Something we can all enjoy. Right?"</p><p>Thorgil swats her hand away from Olmar's thigh. "Let the man decide. Gotta get his informed consent." He traces up the line of Olmar's spine, hand sliding up under his shirt. "So? You in?"</p><p>"You can just go to sleep if you really want." Roskva tilts his chin up a little, and Thorgil lets her touch him this time. Above the waist isn't really teasing him too bad. Not enough to impair his judgment.</p><p>Not that Olmar has much good judgment to start with. They didn't need to get him drugged up beforehand, in Thorgil's opinion, to get him to say yes. So it isn't like they're raping the poor kid or anything. He just tends to be stupid, and he tends to be loud. The drugs are to help with that part. Get him to calm down and listen. Thorgil paid the security guys off already, but it's easiest for everyone if Olmar doesn't do his usual thing and make it blindingly obvious that it's just the three of them in here tonight.</p><p>"Keep in mind the two of us have lives. If you want it, it's gotta be tonight." With the other hand Thorgil gives his brother's knee an encouraging pat. Also not a spot that's gonna give him a boner, so it's not coercion. His legs are just out of that gangly teenage stage, not scrawny but no bulk to speak of. Every time Thorgil turns around he's yapping about some new wrestling or fighting style—recently it's those Asian ones where you just roll around and tap each other without putting on any muscle. Which makes sense, because Olmar's mandatory part-time work at Dad's construction company is the only exercise he ever gets.</p><p>"'Kay." It's soft and easy, no concern behind the word.</p><p>Thorgil's hand slides up to the thigh. "Yeah? You up for a little spit roast?"</p><p>"It's not going to be me in the middle," Roskva interjects. "Just so you know. I don't do anal."</p><p>Not the first time she's said that. "You heard her. You're gonna be the center of attention tonight."</p><p>A soft nod that Thorgil sees less than he feels it against his chest. "Okay."</p><p>"You're good with getting it up the ass? 'Cuz that's what's gonna happen." That's almost concerning. Granted, it's the whole point of tonight, but a man shouldn't be this quick to accept it. Not a man who shares about half his genetic makeup with Thorgil.</p><p>"Of course he wants <em>you</em> up there." Roskva has his zipper down before Thorgil can tell her to cut it out. Olmar's pitching a little bit of a tent. Not a full hard-on, but he looks ready to get started. "Stop trying to psych him out of it. Just look at him."</p><p>"Drug's doing its job."</p><p>Roskva laughs at something, tracing a finger up the outline of Olmar's cock. And if she's gonna start things downstairs, Thorgil might as well take over upstairs.</p><p>He's never kissed anyone this out of it before. The warm air on his upper lip is slow and heavy. Olmar's breathing like a sleeping man. There's no trading tongues, just a mouth letting him in. It almost feels too full in there. No pushback from the lips, no hands on his chest or back. As he slides Olmar beneath him and onto the bed Thorgil reflects that, again, this isn't how a man should be kissing, but he'll give his little brother a pass under the circumstances.</p><p>"You say we can't touch him until he says yes, and then you slip him something to make him horny." Roskva giggles in Thorgil's ear as she hooks Olmar's arms around his neck.</p><p>Thorgil doesn't see the need to answer as he lifts one hip at a time to let her get to work on Olmar's pants. But she's full of shit as usual. The aphrodisiac's just to balance things out. Counteract the depressant part of the drug. It's not fair to <em>them</em> if they ask Olmar yes or no when he can't get hard at all. And it couldn't be more obvious he's enjoying himself now. His arms can't grip too hard, and neither can his fingers, but the heels of his hands are digging hard into the back of Thorgil's neck. The sounds he's making are the sounds of a teenager who's just discovered jerking off. The uncontrolled type you get out of a really repressed virgin chick, in the middle of finding out how good her little body feels when a real man gets his arms around her. They're muffled against Thorgil's mouth, and probably about half-strength, but the bulge digging into his midsection is doing its own talking.</p><p>Olmar's unfiltered, whatever else he is.</p><p>This time Roskva bites his ear. "You want to do the honors?"</p><p>Reaching down to Olmar's hips, Thorgil finds them covered by way more than just a too-long t-shirt. Reluctantly, he comes up for air. "Why'd you leave these on?"</p><p>"I thought you might want to take them off with your teeth."</p><p>"What the hell for?" Thorgil straightens a little, trying to get a full view of her so he can glare better. She's still fully dressed in the absolutely sickening top and skirt she chose for the night. They didn't get ready together or anything, but he knows she <em>chooses</em> everything she wears. Tonight's is the brotherfucking ensemble, apparently. Red and pink, a little teddy bear decal on the skirt, all of it just a little too cute. As usual.</p><p>"It's sexy. My second boyfriend loved doing it for me."</p><p>"Your G-string isn't a pair of boxers." Thorgil puts an arm around Olmar, who's starting to slip, and Olmar's arms loosen a bit around his neck. "Yeah, that's it. Let go."</p><p>"I do <em>not</em> wear a G-string."</p><p>Thorgil genuinely doesn't give a shit what she wears, these days.</p><p>It takes some more nudging before Olmar's arms go limp, and by then Thorgil's got his boxers down to his knees. From a quick up-and-down of the situation, it looks like the kid's best off getting started where they are. He's flushed and whimpering, straining to get his dick pressed against something. Thorgil keeps himself carefully to one side—can't risk him ending the whole night off a little dry humping—and with the arm that's not holding Olmar up, he reaches around and kneads the base of his brother's spine thoughtfully. Spreading his fingers out to their fullest, he feels them spanning Olmar's entire body and curving around his sides, and decides <em>better safe than sorry.</em></p><p>Taking one of Olmar's hands in his, he lifts it up to the kid's mouth, palm up. "Spit." He waits for a second, gives him a gentle shake. Olmar just blinks, dazed, his eyes too half-lidded to focus on Thorgil in particular. "No? All right, just don't bite. I'm warning you now."</p><p>Roskva watches him pry Olmar's mouth all the way open and slide his own fingers in. "<em>What</em> are you doing?" From the sound of it, she isn't just confused by the method.</p><p>"You expect him to have a pussy down there?" Olmar's arm moves up to Thorgil's chest, like he's bracing himself against something. He must be plenty confused too. Thorgil touches the underside of his chin. "Shut your mouth a little. Careful, now. Just the lips. There you go."</p><p>Olmar's fingers aren't as wet as they need to be when they come out, so Thorgil spits on them for good measure.</p><p>"Ugh!" Roskva's every inch the offended young socialite. Like he walked up at dinner and spat in her champagne.</p><p>Thorgil holds the hand out to her. "Wanna make it a threesome?"</p><p>"I'd like to throw up. You'd better not give him some limp-wrister virus. He's the only little brother we have."</p><p>"Now how would I be carrying anything like that?" Thorgil grins at her over the top of Olmar's head. "'Shirt-lifter', though—" with his own wrist, he nudges Olmar's stupid long t-shirt up over his hip— "I'll cop to that one."</p><p>It takes a bit of work getting Olmar spread open and sitting on his own fingers. Roskva gives him another disgusted scoff before he even asks for help, but she does consent to hold the shirt up out of the way. Thorgil has a very specific image in mind for how he wants to pull the shirt off, and it's not here on the bed.</p><p>"I told him not to eat today," he says to Roskva, just to forestall more complaints. "Hold him up, would you? Lower to the bed, so I can get in up here."</p><p>"Isn't he horrible?" Roskva asks their brother as she lowers him onto her knees. "You probably thought he was taking you for dinner. Poor thing. <em>You'd</em> better buy him a whole big cake tomorrow."</p><p>"Don't baby him while he gets fucked. You wanna turn him into some kind of pervert?"</p><p>Olmar's eyes open wider when his first finger goes in. The second one prompts a little, "Ah!"</p><p>"There you go, champ. Play around, you're getting yourself ready." Watching a boy prep himself for you is a special kind of fucking hot. Even if it's the first time Thorgil's had to do so much hand-holding to get one there. And having someone skip meals for a whole day just because he was told to, all so he can get fucked later—he's not gonna use the word <em>adorable</em>, because this is Olmar. Something in that neighborhood, though.</p><p>"His face is so hot." Roskva's petting his forehead. There are other places she could be petting if she really wants to make this easier for him. "You're sure he's going to be okay? With all those pills you gave him?"</p><p>"Pill. Singular. He's fine, I did my research. He's just horny."</p><p>"And what are you making him do, exactly?"</p><p>"Roskva, I know you know what anal is." She's gone through at least five boyfriends, and those are just the ones that last more than a night. He never even had to teach her how to hunt.</p><p>"You really think I'm some kind of slut, don't you?" She glares at him, face almost as pink as her blouse. "I don't know anything about that stuff you get up to. I could never face my future husband knowing I let someone do <em>that</em> to me."</p><p>"Yeah, that'll be the first thing he asks." Thorgil rolls Olmar's shirt back up where it's starting to slip down from all the squirming. "Not too deep, kid, this is just to get you started. You've gotta loosen up before anal," he adds, to Roskva. "Especially the first time. You know how much he's gonna be taking."</p><p>Instead of sassing back, she just nods thoughtfully, biting her lip. A little awed, actually.</p><p>It takes a couple of minutes before Olmar's loosened up. His cheeks are redder than Roskva's ever turned in her life, and when Thorgil has to pull him off his own fingers that seems like as good a cue as any.</p><p>He's easy to carry. Especially like this, just a little bit knocked out. Not so much that he can't stand on his own two feet when Thorgil puts him down. He holds still when his shirt's peeled up—some stupid thing with a big logo on it, just as tasteless as their sister's choice. Thorgil takes a second to appreciate how much the view improves without it. Nothing to write home about, but he's skinny and pale and it's always nice looking at fresh meat before it gets broken in.</p><p>"There ya go," Thorgil says, tugging the shirt off over Olmar's up-stretched hands. Then, pinning his hands to the big floor-to-ceiling window, he reaches down for his own belt.</p><p>"Please," Olmar whimpers. "I don't wanna fall."</p><p>"It's just a window, dumbshit."</p><p>"You leave him alone." Roskva's at their side, tugging Olmar back to the bed on his unsteady legs. "How am I supposed to watch with you jamming him against a window?"</p><p>"Waste of a goddamn penthouse," Thorgil says, sizing them up quickly and deciding it's not worth it. He can't tackle her, that's the problem. "What are we up here for if we're not gonna fuck on the window?"</p><p>"You're scaring him. Besides." She straddles their brother, starting to lift her skirt. "I wanna pop his cherry."</p><p>"I'm <em>not</em> a virgin," Olmar says, very clearly.</p><p>Thorgil sits himself on the bed again, pulling Olmar's head and shoulders up into his lap. Not much else he can do for now. One of them is paying for this later, though. "You heard the man. The only virginity he has left is all mine. Unless you brought a strap-on."</p><p>"Maybe I did." She looks at Thorgil's face and laughs. "You dirty fucking pervert. You want his ass even more than I do."</p><p>"Let's get this done the most logical way," Thorgil tells her, ignoring how desperately she's trying to get one up on him. "If you're back there, what am I supposed to do, huh?"</p><p>"Let him fuck you." Looking like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.</p><p>That's not happening. Even <em>if</em> Olmar were up to the task. "He's never fucked his sister before. That's all the cherry you're getting. Put that strap-on back in the drawer."</p><p>"Don't you know a joke when you hear one? Of course I don't have any strap-ons. Unlike you, I'm only interested in straight men."</p><p>"Their balls must be pretty shrunk down by the time you're done with them."</p><p>The bed's a nice one, at least. Soft and springy. Roskva uses the penthouse more. There's all kinds of pink shit in here, right down to the carpet, which is why Thorgil doesn't spend much time here. She keeps it in decent order (or Dad's people do, at her insistence), and Dad probably knows how much time she spends slutting around up here, even if he doesn't have all the details.</p><p>Thorgil doesn't bother with the slutty type, usually, but this is a special occasion and all.</p><p>She pulls her skirt down and all Thorgil needs to see is a flash of blonde pubic hair hovering over Olmar. Time for him to step in again.<br/>
 <br/>
"Uh-uh. Wrap it up."</p><p>"I'm not even ovulating!"</p><p>"Get yourself pregnant all you want on your own watch. Right now, you're both on mine."</p><p>"With his genes it'd just miscarry." She hates getting big-brothered in front of Olmar. It hurts her pride as a big sister, or something. Or maybe just their mutual agreement that no matter how the three of them are lined up, Olmar is always the one most in need of correction.</p><p>"And you call <em>me</em> mean."</p><p>"I can hear you," Olmar says weakly.</p><p>Thorgil gives his chin a playful tap. "Try showing a little spark if you're awake, huh?"</p><p>He's not doing too bad, actually, given how limp his body must be feeling right now. It wasn't a roofie he took, exactly, but he did go down pretty hard earlier.</p><p>"You said it was my birthday." Olmar manages to sound expectant and sulky at the same time. Like he was promised a cake someone's waving around just out of reach.</p><p>Well, it's true they haven't actually started fucking him yet. "Settle down, birthday boy. Condoms are in my bag. Your sister was just getting them out." He gives Roskva a hard look.</p><p>"You never used one with me." She pouts disgustingly as she fishes out the condoms and a little bottle that she gives her own hard look. Not as good as Thorgil's. He's done the math on that. "You travel with lube now?"</p><p>"If you'd ever missed a period, I would've started on condoms a lot sooner. Baby with you would've been the scare of my life."</p><p>"Oh, I would've aborted it. Don't you worry about that."</p><p>Olmar's trying to lift himself. "I'm ready." His cock's the only part of him that can stand up on its own, and even that's leaning a little. The sweat's starting to stand out on his chest.</p><p>"Don't get all riled up." Thorgil hooks him under the shoulders and pulls him all the way up. "We're not starting over if you cum on your own."</p><p>He's looser than most first-timers as Thorgil slides in, even with the faint trembling. The drug's still doing its job. Still tight enough for a second- or third-timer. It's almost enough to make up for the rubber. Which is less because he's worried about incest babies, and more because he doesn't trust either one of his younger siblings to be clean.</p><p>Thorgil fucking hates condoms. They ruin the whole thing, as far as he's concerned. With girls, you can tell them you've gotten snipped—a lie, and not one you can tell too often on the same prowling grounds. No self-respecting man is gonna let a doctor hack his balls open and fool around in there. But most of them are willing to mistake him for a eunuch in the name of getting plowed by someone who clearly knows what he's doing. Thorgil's good at picking the ones who want to be fooled.</p><p>Trouble is, those are mostly the barely-legal set, and he's getting less popular with them lately. His face doesn't exactly scream <em>gentle practice fuck for the first-timer</em>. Boys are easier to hook, and tighter too, but the community's smaller and at least one club's taken it upon themselves to start warning the newbies. The last time Thorgil was in, he actually made eye contact with a little brunet thing, and got back exactly the kind of slightly nervous smile that he likes to see, only for some old queen to pull the kid aside right in front of him and whisper in his ear. The next smile was a lot more nervous, and what had looked like a promising candidate wound up slinking away into the crowd, tail between his legs and doing his best to blend in. Too young yet to understand what blending even means, but Thorgil wasn't about to humiliate himself by giving chase.</p><p>Honestly, they acted like he was some kind of rapist. When he hardly even bothers with the quivering-fawn type of virgin to begin with. Male or female, Thorgil likes them chipper and ready for anything. He just also likes finding out how much they're <em>really</em> ready for. Sometimes it comes as a surprise to them how much they can handle. But he's never ignored a "no" in his life.</p><p>He's never drugged anyone before, either. Olmar's kind of a special case. He's been legal for a while now, but it's not surprising Thorgil's never thought of him as an option. His brother's eager enough, sure, and he gets lippy with anyone who gives him the leeway. But he turns into jelly if you look at him wrong, and that's only funny the first hundred times or so.</p><p>Still, virgin ass is virgin ass. Olmar doesn't have the balls God gave a guppy, but Thorgil's not the one who has to worry about his balls right now.</p><p>Their sister's shaved, he notices this time, as she lowers herself carefully onto Olmar's cock. A landing strip, they call it. Very trendy. For her future husband, no doubt.</p><p>When she leans over to give Olmar a kiss, all Thorgil gets is a view of the top of their heads. Same blond hair, same curl hanging down on their foreheads. It kills Olmar that she's almost as tall as him. Tall runs in the family on Dad's side, and she got that part even if she didn't get the same build.</p><p>Thorgil's slowed down to let Roskva get situated. With him holding Olmar in his lap, all she'll have to do is keep from sliding off on the other end. It's work, lifting Olmar from below, but this is what he works out for.</p><p>Well, that's not the first goal, but it's a nice side effect. He doesn't <em>live</em> for sex.</p><p>"Bro," Olmar gasps as Roskva pulls back from him. His legs are sprawling out on either side, wider than Thorgil's, and he's trying to move his hips. He probably doesn't have the muscle control to squeeze down.</p><p>"Poor baby." Roskva rests her arms on his shoulders, her wrists just touching the tops of Thorgil's shoulders behind him. "He's so mean. He won't even fuck you, after he promised and everything."</p><p>Her breasts are right up in his face. "Don't suffocate the poor guy," Thorgil says. "Get yourself balanced and I can get started again."</p><p>"Olmar, once we're done, tell us whose are better, 'kay? Now that you've had a faceful of both." She pulls her own shoulders up, and Olmar makes a strangled sound. "You want him sooo bad, I know. But try to be fair."</p><p>Thorgil can feel Olmar's arms moving forward tentatively, probably to wrap around Roskva. He wonders idly how much pussy the kid's actually had. He vaguely remembers a girlfriend, or a picture of a girlfriend, or something like that. She probably put out. Then again, he can definitely picture Olmar settling for a single fuck and a bunch of chaste picnic lunches.</p><p>"Don't worry, honey. I'm gonna call you all the nice words your big brother's too scared to say. He wants to be sweet to you deep down, y'know. In fact, this whole thing was his—"</p><p>"Roskva," Thorgil says. "Shut your fucking mouth."</p><p>He really means it this time, and she can tell, so she shuts up. Olmar's quivering a little now, and Thorgil's not going to ask what that means, but he doesn't like it. Even he's not about to tease the kid with <em>that</em>.</p><p>This was Roskva's idea and she knows it. They were both stone sober when she came up with it. But Olmar's so goddamn earnest he'll just believe her, now that she's said it. Anything else Thorgil says is gonna sound like he's in denial. Dumbass kid.</p><p>He shoots his sister a look that says <em>This is why I stopped fucking you.</em> She smiles sweetly back at him, bitch that she is, and since strangling her isn't an option, he settles back into fucking Olmar. He's gonna have to be completely calm before he tries to talk this one out.</p><p>The view from the penthouse is great. The whole city's lit up by now. From what Thorgil can see, over his little brother and sister's heads. What he has a better view of is the mini bar on the left side of the room. Hopefully Roskva keeps some food up here for her conquests. It's some low-carb shit, if she does. She's always watching her weight.</p><p>Thorgil gives himself a shake. <em>Enjoy this, for fuck's sake.</em> You only get to take your brother's anal virginity once.</p><p>Olmar's the type who'd be bouncing up and down, normally, once you get him on a dick. He's not good-looking enough to be a twink, but he hasn't shed that coltishness yet, grown man though he is. The drug's keeping him quiet for the most part, but his body can't help moving back and forth, chasing the relief it thinks is seconds away. Thorgil keeps him moving up and down at a steady pace. Every time he brushes against Olmar's back he can feel the tension coiled in his brother's spine. It's trapped there, with his body slowed down like it is. All he can do is whine, the sounds coming out in bursts as he shifts. Roskva's kissing his neck now—not deep ones, but little pecks that introduce a stutter into the rhythm of his whining.</p><p>"You're doing so good, sweetie." Her voice is a low purr. "We're so proud of you."</p><p>It makes Thorgil's skin crawl. He's never been sure just how gullible Olmar is—sometimes he thinks there <em>must</em> be a limit—so maybe it's better if he's too out of it to be listening. The way he's whimpering, though, says he probably can hear her just fine.</p><p>Thorgil does like a good whimper. Lucky for Olmar he's too dim for it to be any fun breaking him down. Instead Thorgil keeps his hands as gentle as he knows how. The way he does with girls he knows he'll have to see again. And his little siblings move the way he shows them, for once. Roskva goes quiet after a while and he can tell she's done putting on a show. Just spreading her legs and trying to get something slapping against her clit. Olmar's still going, but not too loud.</p><p>The quiet's nice. They're rarely all together at once, and the peaceful moments are even rarer. Olmar's always hollering about something, and Roskva's not much better when he's around. But right now they're almost cute. Blonde on blond. There's a song about that, or something.</p><p>"We might have to do this again sometime," Thorgil says, to no response.</p><p>He didn't mean it, anyway.</p><p>Thorgil still hasn't met anyone with a more obnoxious O-face than his sister. It was more genuine when they were starting out, but she's had time to practice and turn it into the fakest of fake porn faces. She's actually a good actress, so she must think this is what men like. Maybe some of them do.</p><p>Olmar, meanwhile, is in no position to act. Thorgil can't see his face, but he can feel his body tighten and his lungs squeeze out a different kind of moan, one that turns into slower, more regular breathing. His muscles loosen back up almost immediately now that the pressure's off. He grunts a little when Thorgil squeezes his thigh, but it's hard to hear. He's not gonna be conscious much longer.</p><p>Thorgil hasn't had to learn how to get off to sleeping people. He's not that desperate yet. Never will be, God willing. So he lets himself finish, careful and easy so he doesn't knock his brother and sister right off the bed. The orgasm's nothing special, but then presents aren't supposed to be much fun for the giver. Plus there's the whole condom thing. Might've been kinda poetic to blow a load in his little brother, who then goes on to blow a load in their sister—but not worth getting the clap from one or both of them. Or the nightmare of getting dragged into a pregnancy scare.</p><p>Roskva gives him a kiss over Olmar's head before climbing off, and laughs at the disgusted noise he makes. She doesn't offer any help with Olmar, who's dead weight in his lap, or with the condoms. Thorgil has to look around the room for a wastebasket himself. Finally he decides it's more her place than anyone else's up here, and tosses them onto the floor from the safety of the bed. She can deal with that in the morning. Or show off two used condoms to the help, if she feels like it.</p><p>Olmar's shifted a little next to him, and his breathing isn't quite slow enough to be asleep. That's all to the good, because they need to have a talk, and Thorgil's not too keen on having it when his brother's fully conscious. Awkward as hell.</p><p>Before he can say anything, Olmar speaks up on his own.</p><p>"I know," he says groggily. "That you don't wanna say that stuff to me."</p><p>"Yeah?" That's a relief. Which isn't something Thorgil usually thinks when Olmar's done talking. Go figure. "You do, huh?" </p><p>"Just pretending you did. For my birthday." He noses into Thorgil's thigh and Thorgil lets him. His voice is thick from the drug and the sex and he's almost asleep now. When he wakes up it won't be his birthday anymore.</p><p>"Every dog has his day, right?"</p><p>Olmar doesn't say anything back, and Thorgil gives his nose a quick tweak to see if he's at all conscious. Nothing.</p><p>He frowns down at Roskva, lying there looking smugly unconcerned with the whole business. It could've gotten pretty awkward if she'd actually convinced the kid his big brother was some secret softy dying to be his best friend. He had a better handle on her once, but it's a little like trying to keep a snake on a leash. She's pretty when she's asleep, at least. Plenty of guys have probably sat in this bed, looking down and thinking that.</p><p>That's the nice thing about Olmar. He stumbles into trouble every now and then, always reaching for the same shit he doesn't know to handle, and it's all so predictable. He's a cowardly, incompetent drain on the family name, but underneath all the bluster there are no real surprises. Not the nasty kind of scheming Roskva gets up to.</p><p>She's lying with her back to them now, long hair spilling onto his other thigh, and he doesn't disturb her. She's a light sleeper, and he'd rather be out of here without talking to her again. Olmar's lying on his own arm, the idiot, and when Thorgil moves him off it he just droops. He's gonna be out for a while now that he's given in.</p><p>That's pretty much how it goes with his brother. Do him a favor and he winds up passed out on his own arm. Take him for a walk and he falls down an open manhole. An endless cycle of saving him from himself. Olmar usually starts the day with good intentions, anyway. He might not be there yet, but he's trying to get on the same page as the rest of the family.</p><p>No real surprises in this one. At least Thorgil can rest easy knowing that.</p>
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